Night Kisses
by EmmelineSpark
Summary: Sequel to 'Night Tears': She was not weak, but they both knew she was broken. She could still smile to him, but he could easily see that her heart was torn apart. All she wanted was his night kisses to heal her… Bellamort increasing along the way.
1. Acceptance

**Night Kisses**

**Sequel to 'Night Tears': She was not weak, but they both knew she was broken. She could still smile to him, but her heart was torn apart. All she wanted was his night kisses to heal her…**

**).(**

_AN/ I AM BACK. And I am back with a sequel for "Night Tears"! *me is so very excited :DDD* I know, I said I would not do a sequel, well, I said I would not do one yet. But, obviously, I simply could not keep myself from attacking the keyboard and start writing this… I tried, but I couldn't… "Night Tears" was my all time fav to write, and I just couldn't leave it like that… I hope you understand… XD So, this is picked from where "Night Tears" stopped. That is, poor Rod's death… So obviously, this is not going to be like "Night Tears" (I mean, there will not be the whole Bella/Voldemort/Rod triangle thing, since Rod is, well, dead), it is going to be much more Bella/Voldemort. Bellamort will be increasing along the way, but it starts from where their relationship was at "Night Tears" (yes, yes, that is Voldemort having acted like a jerk towards Bella, and Bella being a wreck because of him). The first chapter is pretty short, and I apologize for that, but it's some sort of prologue to the story._

_Even if you have not read "Night Tears", I do believe there will be no problem with reading this, I think you'll understand what's going on, but still, I recommend that you read it. If you want, of course._

_So, enough with me making you think "will she EVER stop with this f****ng Author's Note!", off to the fun part! Of course, I own nothing but the plot. Everything is the property of the brilliant JK Rowling._

_Please, hit that button below and tell me what you think! _

**).(**

_I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do_

_And I've hurt myself by hurting you_

_Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit_

_Sometimes I just want to hide 'cause it's you I miss_

_You know it's so hard when it comes to this…_

_~Christina Aguilera, "Hurt"_

**).(**

Lord Voldemort had never been genuinely worried for someone. His deatheaters got injured more often than not, and many times it took weeks for them to recover; some times it had been the Dark Lord himself who had caused his followers to stay out to recover for so long, mostly as a result of disobedience or failure.

Bellatrix had been injured and wounded during battles many times in the past, and she had also gone through many particularly brutal punishments for having disappointed or disobeyed Voldemort. He was used in seeing her being tired, exhausted, wounded, and he had never worried, since he knew she would soon be perfectly fine and ready to serve him once more, with more eagerness than anyone else in his ranks.

But now, now he truly did not know what to think of her state. It had been less than two days since he had met her at his door, finding himself looking into a pair of empty black eyes. A small faint smile was spread across her face, even though it was clear that it was no sign of joy or amusement, and she looked paler than usual. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her wand was still at hand.

He had allowed her to get inside then, and he had immediately understood that her state had had to do with the punishment she had received earlier that day by him. This had confused him, though; it was not the first time she had been tortured by him, and certainly not the most painful punishment she had received.

He remembered her throwing herself on one of his couches, seeming not to care about formalities; she had let her wand slip from her hand and he had not made a move to pick it up from the floor for her. It would have been a useless thing to do.

Then she had looked at him, her eyes still blank, her small empty smile still spread across her pale face. He had raised an eyebrow and had asked her what had made her think she was welcome in his manor, after the events that had taken place there.

And her bitter smile had not yet left her. He had sharply ordered her to explain herself, and she had done so.

"I am not weak, master," she had told him, and he had truly been confused. Then he had remembered his words when he had been torturing her earlier that day, and his face had once again turned cold and emotionless.

"What makes you think that, Bellatrix?' he had questioned coolly, but she had not flinched, she had not cried, she had not begged like she had done while getting punished.

"I did what you wanted, master," she had replied, and she had smiled again. But her smile had still held no joy.

He had raised an eyebrow again.

"I killed him. "I killed Rodolphus. Are you not satisfied now, my lord? I am not weak, as you said, I proved I am your most faithful!"

She had killed him. This had surprised Voldemort. Yes, he had ordered her to do so, but he had never really expected she would do it. He knew Bellatrix didn't love her husband, she would have never been so stupid, but he was aware of the bond between the married couple, and, despite punishing her and calling her weak, he had thought she would never do it. He had been planning to do it himself, since he could not rely on Bella for this.

"You killed him," he had repeated icily, as if not believing her, even though he had been positive she was telling him the truth.

"Yes."

He had not known if he should praise her for being a good servant, if he should simply acknowledge her obedience and then tell her to leave, or punish her again for taking her so late to do something so simple. But before he could do anything of these, she had cried.

He had seen her crying before; when pleading him, when wanting to manipulate Rodolphus, when being angry. But never because of being desperate. Never because of being broken.

She had collapsed, right in front of him, sobbing, uttering words that had seemed like "I am sorry" to him. And then she had fallen unconscious at his feet, not being able to handle the stress and desperation.

Two days had passed since that incidence, two whole days, and she had still not woken up from the state she was in. he had never seen anything like that, someone being unconscious for no reason, for so long.

Lord Voldemort was now sitting in his study room, knowing that Bellatrix was still laying on the bed in one of the bedrooms of his mansion, covered with the thick blankets, being alive and yet lifeless. He had no idea why he had decided to keep her in his own manor, and look after her, when he could have simply left her under the care of a medi-witch and wait until she was healthy and ready to fight for his cause again.

Of course, he could have done that and keep his mind free of having to look after someone, but he had kept her here. He didn't know why; perhaps it is because he wanted to know what had caused this, he told himself. Of course he wanted Bellatrix to be healthy and well, she was perhaps his best dueler and extremely devoted, and could not afford to lose her. She also was extremely good at pleasing him and always eager to do so.

She was also always the first one to volunteer for a dangerous task that had to be completed, always the one who would do anything for him without hesitation. Now that this had occurred, he merely wanted to find the reasons why and make sure Bellatrix would be able to return to her prior activities. Nothing more.

**).(**

Bellatrix opened her eyes, for the second time that day. She was glad her master did not know she was awake; for the last couple of days, she had been drifting in and out of consciousness, before finally losing all her senses and recovering them again that day.

She did not want him to step in the room and start asking questions. She did not want to talk to him. She did not want to talk to anyone. All she wanted was to stay in that bed for as long as possible, alone, away from reality.

Suddenly, she felt dizzy and sick once again. She threw her head back on the pillows, and inhaled deeply. Perhaps that was a bad idea; she coughed for quite some long seconds after that attempt to get air into her lungs.

Her head hurt. Her whole body hurt. Her eyes hurt. She was dizzy. Her vision was blurry. Everything spun around her.

A hand flew to her forehead, and she gasped when she sensed how high her temperature was. It could have been because of the extremely thick blankets, but she knew she must have had a fever.

She was a mess. And the memories of what had happened two days before didn't help at all. She growled as she felt her head hurt once again, and this time the pain truly was terrible; it felt as if someone was hammering her forehead from the inside.

She closed her eyes again, and struggled to force herself back to sleep. It did not work; her mind stubbornly refused to relax, while the memories of what she had done invaded her mind. She bit her lower lip, and desperately tried to repel them, but with no luck.

She thought she would cry again, but she surprised herself when she didn't; apparently, there were no tears left to spill. Her thoughts were abruptly ceased though, when she heard footsteps from outside the room. Her weak fingers clenched on the blanket that was wrapped around her, and she fixed her now wide open eyes at the door.

It did not creak as it opened, and Bellatrix held her breath as a man's tall figure entered the room, struggling to keep her eyes focused on him, as the pain on her head became worse.

She opened her mouth to speak, but realized that she could not utter a single word. Was she too weak even to talk? She closed her eyes; her head was killing her.

"Bellatrix? You're awake," a familiar voice acknowledged, and she sighed. She could not face her master now… Not now…

She allowed herself to fall back on the mattress, as the pain became almost unbearable. She felt her master sit on the bed next to her, and a cold hand touched her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and she wholeheartedly hoped that what she had traced in his voice was a sign of care, but she knew this could not be. His voice was as cold and emotionless as ever.

Once again, she tried to answer to his question, but no sound came out. Before she could try again, everything went black.


	2. Worry

_AN/Hey people who are reading this! *thanks for doing so :)*_

_Here is chapter 2! It turned out to be something completely different from what I had originally planned, and I am not entirely sure if I like it, but, oh well… I hope you like it! Let me know if you did by being the best and leaving a review! :)_

_I want to thank everyone who reads this, and everyone who has added this to their alerts and favorites! Many special thanks to those who took the time to leave a review! You're awesome! *sends kisses*_

**).(**

_I went to bed I was thinking about you_

_I ain't the same since I'm living without you_

_All the memories are getting colder_

_All the things I want to do over…_

_~Skillet, "Don't wake me up"_

**).(**

When Bellatrix finally opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was or why on earth she was there. The only ting she was certain about was that she most definitely wasn't in her own bedroom.

She forced herself to sit up, and quickly realized she was on a bed –a very comfortable, large bed with thick covers and soft pillows.

She rubbed her pounding forehead with one hand, and she immediately realized sweat was dripping from her temples. She felt like she was burning up; she could really use a cold shower right now, but she felt tired only by thinking that she should stand up and walk all the way to a bathroom in order to do that.

She sighed as she struggled to put her thoughts in order. First of all, she needed to find out where the hell she was.

Bellatrix glanced around the room, and saw that it was decorated with a dark colored tapestry, a black carpet and an old-fashioned yet tasteful chandelier; the only furniture apart from the four-poster bed was a small wooden table with a heavy book and a clock resting on it, a huge armchair covered with black velvet and a wardrobe made of expensive polished wood.

She was sure she had been in that room before or, at least, a room very similar to that. The bedroom seemed very familiar…

It was not until then that she realized she was in the Dark Lord's manor, after the memories of what had happened only a couple of days before filled her mind. She clearly remembered coming here, to see him, to tell him that she had killed her husband.

She had killed him. So, this was it. She had done what she had been ordered to do, and her master would be pleased –he _should_ be pleased. She had proven she was not weak, even if that had been against her will.

She took a small breath and ran her hand through her hair, realizing how messy and tangled it was. She made a note to remind herself to take some time to brush it after having that so needed bath.

She still could not believe that Rodolphus was dead. There had been many times in the past when she had thought that perhaps she would have been much better without him, and she had often imagined how it would be like to be without a husband; and never had these fantasies been bad. Every time she had dreamed of herself without Rodolphus, she had been perfectly happy and independed. Just how she wanted to be.

But after the incidents with her husband and the Dark Lord, she had come to realize that maybe she needed him after all. She knew she did not love him; how could she? She had not wanted to even try, and had decided to never do. But she did know that her husband had cared for her, that he had loved her. He had told her many times, but she had only truly believed him the night when she had informed him about her pregnancy and the fact that she should get rid of the baby.

This had been the very first night when she had actually thought that she might care about Rodolphus, that she might don't want to lose him. It had been the very first night that she had questioned her own feelings, and the very first time her emotions had collided one with another.

She had not loved her husband. But she may have cared. And yet she had killed him. She had done it because her lord had told her to. And she could not disappoint him; she could not bear hearing him say that she was weak, that she was a failure. She had wanted –needed to prove that she was not weak; that she was his most faithful, his most devoted.

And she had proved it. She had done what she had to do. Why was she regretting now then?

Once again, she felt her head pounding, but she chose to ignore it.

She had to put her thoughts and emotions in order. She needed to do that for a long time now, but now she would finally do it. It wasn't easy –it wasn't easy at all.

First, what she felt about Rodolphus. Her husband, who was now dead, dead by her hand. She had killed him. That meant she did not love him. Yes, she was sure about that, she did not love Rodolphus. Therefore, she should not feel guilt, she should not feel remorse.

She didn't feel remorse, because she had proven to be up to her master's expectations. Her master… The Dark Lord. What did she feel about him?

Definitely something stronger –greatly stronger- than what she had ever felt for her now dead husband. Bellatrix knew she had given her heart to her master. She knew she would do anything for him. She knew she would follow him to the end of the world if he asked her to do so. She knew she would do _anything_. Even if that was to get rid of her own unborn child, even if that was to murder her own husband. She had done those things –because he had told her to. And she would never hesitate to do something that he asked her to do.

But she did not obey him out of fear, she did not obey him because she wanted to impress him. She did it because she loved him.

But did she _really_ love him? He had done many things to her. He had tortured her more than just once, he had ordered her to kill her husband and unborn baby, he had mocked her, he had threatened her, he had slapped her, he had told her she was worthless and weak. But she had gone through all this, and she knew he had been right to do everything he had done. He was always right, he always had a reason. She could never be angry at him, she could never fell anything less than respect and worship for him.

So that meant she loved him. Didn't it?

This could not be right. She knew she couldn't, she _shouldn't_ love him. Bellatrix was well aware of the fact that Voldemort did not love anyone, and she knew he would never love her back, no matter what she did for him. She knew she would only get hurt because of her unrequited love for him. She knew he would never return her feelings.

Thus, she had to stop loving him. She chuckled bitterly, in spite of herself. How could one _stop loving_ someone else? This could not happen, yet she knew she would probably put herself in danger by sinking into such deep waters.

But now Bellatrix couldn't do anything to help herself. She had fallen in love –not a silly crush that would probably be over within weeks or months, not an irrational, perfect fairytale constructed in her head, as if she were in love with someone she could never reach. No, she was in love, with the only man that could never, _would never_ love her back.

She knew that, and she knew she could not do anything to change it. But she still could impress him, be a faithful and devoted follower, be valuable to him, make him care, just a little. She would conceal her emotions, and she would always stand strong, so that he would admire her for this. She hoped that he already cared; if he didn't, why had he let her recover in his own manor, why had he acted so soft with her in the past?

He must have cared, even the tiniest bit. If he didn't, he would have kicked her out of his house and never help her.

Bellatrix once again grabbed her forehead as the pain struck her again, and she decided she should somehow try to relax. She could not sit here in this bed anymore, doing nothing; perhaps she should go and have that bath she was previously thinking of. She now needed to empty her mind of every thought and calm down, and maybe ease the pain and drop her temperature.

It took all of her willpower to make it out of the bed; her whole body felt numb, and her head felt as if it was being hammered from the inside, while it was extremely painful to move her arms and legs. Once she finally managed to stand up; she had to close her eyes to prevent herself from collapsing; everything around her was spinning.

Several long seconds passed before she somehow composed herself, and made a few hesitant, unsure steps to the door. Once she reached it, she realized she was in a light, knee-length nightgown with low cut and almost transparent material. She looked around for the dress she had been wearing when she had arrived here a couple of days ago, but it was nowhere to be seen. She wondered where the Dark Lord had taken it, because it must have been him who had changed her dress to the light nightgown she was now wearing. Who else could have it been?

She opened the door and found herself in the second floor's long corridor, with many doors down its length, each one leading to a different room; study rooms, leisure rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms, and the Dark Lord's personal chambers.

She knew that some of these doors must lead to a bathroom, but she was not sure; the only bathroom she had ever been in at her lord's manor was the one at the first floor, where the meeting room, the dining and living rooms and the kitchen were, as well. She did not want to risk it; she would go downstairs to take her bath.

She started walking, and prayed that there was not a meeting being held and that she would not meet anyone in her way; she did not want any other Deatheater to see her like this.

She went down the stairs with great difficulty, as her head was still killing her, but when she finally managed it downstairs, she heard voices coming from one of the two living rooms. At first, she intended to ignore them and simply go to the bathroom, but in the end her curiosity won over and she carefully approached the living room, forgetting about being in only a nightgown and looking like a mess.

"My lord, I do believe that we could-"

The voice stopped abruptly once its owner, Severus Snape, noticed Bellatrix on the door and turned his head to her direction, Voldemort doing the same.

Bellatrix's mouth was formed in a perfect "o". She thought of taking out her wand and hexing Snape for looking at her like that, with his eyebrow raised questioningly and an arrogant expression across his face. She had never liked that man, for she had many times thought that he was aiming to steal her rightful place as the Dark Lord's right hand lieutenant.

Her terrible headache did not let her to come up with something rather insulting to say to Snape, so she turned her gaze helplessly at Voldemort, who was watching her, unable to hide the surprise across his face.

"Bellatrix?" Snape questioned icily, and his eyes lingered at her nightdress, obviously wondering why on earth she was wearing this piece of clothing in the Dark Lord's house, and why she was coming down from the floor where his bedrooms where.

Voldemort obviously realized what Snape must have been thinking, so he immediately stood up and took a few steps closer to Bellatrix, his face remaining cold.

"Bellatrix," he acknowledged, and Bellatrix struggled to ignore the headache and incline her head in respect, "you finally woke up from your unconscious state," he said, making sure that nothing was implied in his words.

Snape seemed to be somehow unconvinced, since the thought that Bellatrix's purpose for being in the Dark Lord's manor in a nightgown was something else completely, but hid it well.

"Severus," Voldemort said coolly, and Snape's expression immediately altered, much to Bellatrix's pleasure. "Is there something you would like to share with us?"

"No, my lord," Snape answered calmly, and stood up.

"Good. I believe it is time that you left, though, we can carry on with our discussion later. Bellatrix has just woken up from a serious state of unconsciousness after getting injured in a duel, and I need to call a medi-witch to look after her. You may go now," Voldemort said indifferently, his voice completely emotionless.

Snape bowed his head slightly, murmured a quick "of course, my lord," and left, after shooting a last quick questioning glance towards Bellatrix.

Once they were alone in the living room, Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but he immediately cut her off.

"Bellatrix, why are you here?" he asked sharply, and she was taken aback by his question. What did he mean why she was here? He had allowed her in his manor, how was she supposed not to be there?

"Why did you come _downstairs_, Bellatrix?" he asked again, his patience wearing thin, probably having realized what she was thinking.

"I… wanted to take… a bath," she uttered, and every word she spoke only made the pain in her head worse.

"And couldn't you go to one of the bathrooms in the second floor? You had to come here and interrupt me?" he asked coldly, his voice sharp, which only made Bellatrix think that she wanted to leave as quickly as possible. She felt like a mess, and she could not listen to him talking to her at that tone, it made her feel that she was going to burst in tears in any second.

"I'm s-sorry, my lord," she murmured, struggling to make her voice audible, as a wave of nausea hit her and everything around her began to spin once again, "I-I j-just thought t-that-"

She didn't manage to finish her words, as her vision went blurry and her legs could not hold her anymore; she felt herself falling backwards as everything became darker around her, and mentally prepared herself for the harsh collision with the wooden floor.

But it never came. Despite the terrible headache and nausea, her eyes snapped wide open as she felt two strong arms wrapping around her and lifting her up, preventing her from collapsing. Before she knew it, she was lying on one of the sofa's, with the Dark Lord sitting right next to her, holding her burning face in his hands.

She instantly forgot about all the pain and focused on the sensation of the Dark Lord's hands on her face, and could not help but smile faintly as she realized that he had held her in his arms like that and had cared to not let her fall.

"Bellatrix?" his voice echoed in her head as if it was broadcasted from miles away, and she struggled to focus on what he was saying. "Bella? Can you hear me?" his voice was as calm and collected as ever, but Bellatrix thought she had detected the tiniest trace of worry, worry for her.

And he had called her Bella. Bella. He hadn't called her by her pet name in weeks, and she was convinced that he would never do so again.

"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"How do you feel?"

"M-my head…" she started, but was unable to finish what she wanted to say. She hoped that he would understand.

"You're burning up," he murmured, and suddenly his hands were gone from the sides of her face, and she once again opened her eyes, to see him standing up and grabbing his wand.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to figure out what she was going to do to her, and why he had left her side. Her heart beats evened as she saw him wave his wand slightly and a small vial filled with a light blue liquid flew into the room.

Voldemort took it and once again sat down next to Bellatrix, who realized she should take the vial and drink its content.

"It will ease the pain," the Dark Lord explained simply as she struggled to do so, painfully sitting up and taking the vial in her trembling hand. She brought it to her lips and took a small sip of the liquid, which tasted weirdly like salt water.

"Don't drink too much," she heard Voldemort say and she nodded, taking another small sip and then handing it back to him. With a wave of his hand the vial flew back to where it had come from, and Bellatrix instantly started to feel better.

Her vision somehow cleared and the pain in her head was greatly alleviated; she still felt sick, but much better compared to how she was a few seconds ago.

"Better?" Voldemort asked her and she nodded, and before she could realize what she was doing, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and had buried her face in is chest, in a desperate way to show him that she truly was grateful that he was taking care of her, and how much she cared about him herself.

"Thank you," she murmured against his robes, and then she came to her right mind. She abruptly pulled back, and saw him looking at her with a puzzled expression spread across his face. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, and lowered her gaze. "I… I just wanted to thank you, my lord," she uttered, and hoped that he would not punish her for acting so foolishly.

Thankfully, he did not make any comments about her behavior, much to Bellatrix's relief. He only said "Go take a bath. Then I will call a medi-witch to tend you," the tone of his voice never changing.


	3. Plead

_A.N/ Hey people! *bows to your excited applause* I am back with the third chapter (obviously)! Sorry it took kinda long, but I just lost my muse… And for some reason, I don't really like this chapter… I don't know why, I don't think it's one of my best ones, but, still, I hope you enjoy it… Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Reviews are love love love! :)_

**).(**

_In this world you tried_

_Not leaving me alone behind_

_There's no other way, __I'll pray to the gods: let him stay_

_The memories ease the pain inside... __Now I know why_

_All of my memories keep you near_

_In silent moments __Imagine you'd be here_

_All of my memories keep you near; __The silent whispers, silent tears…_

_~Within Temptation, "Memories"_

**).(**

"Can you swallow?"

"Yes."

"Without difficulty?"

"Yes…"

"Do you feel you throat sore?"

"No, but I will if I have to keep answering questions like that!" Bellatrix snapped and shot a glare at the short plump woman with the grey hair tied up in a strict, modest fashion, who stood right next to the bed where Bellatrix lay, holding a glass with an emerald green liquid in it.

The woman narrowed her eyes, and Bellatrix could tell she would much like to say something back, but of course she wouldn't dare.

"Drink this potion." The woman ordered, and Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, despite the headache that still made her dizzy.

"Is that an _order_?" she questioned mockingly, wondering why her lord had chosen _this_ specific medi-witch to look after her. Sure there must have been others to pick from, much pleasant ones.

"Of course not, but in order to get better, I would advise you to follow my instructions," the medi-witch answered through gritted teeth, and Bellatrix wished she could storm out of bed, grab her wand and throw a really nasty hex at the irritating old woman who dared talk to her like that.

"And _I_ would advise _you_ to watch your tone," Bellatrix growled, making it clear that she was not one to trifle with; ignoring the headache, she grabbed the glass in spite of wanting to throw it along with its content on the witch's face.

Aware of the medi-witch's gaze on her, she drank the liquid, refusing to look at her, and handed her back the now empty glass in a quite rude fashion, that obviously irritated the woman, who however did not comment on that.

"And what is this thing supposed to do?" Bellatrix questioned icily, narrowing her eyes at the woman, who now waved her wand to make the glass disappear.

"It will drop your temperature, Mrs. Lestrange," the woman answered stiffly, and Bellatrix felt her stomach leaping at the sound of her husband's surname. She had sworn she would forget about him and go on with her life, but it wasn't as easy as expected. Almost everything reminded her of Rodolphus, even though she thought that maybe it was better to be alone, after all.

"So I have a fever?"

"Yes, and a very bad one," the medi-witch replied, and gathered all of her vials, herbs and healing books in her bag, under Bellatrix's suspicious gaze.

"Alright. And what _exactly_ is wrong with me?" she asked. "Because you have pretty much told me nothing, only things I already knew, thank you very much."

"Mrs. Lestrange, I do understand you are not feeling quite well, but I would prefer it if we could keep the tone of the conversation to a calmer level."

"What?" Bellatrix snapped, and sat up on the bed, glaring at the medi-witch with eyes wide open. How dare this pathetic little woman talk to her like that? "You better watch _your_ tone, I am not in the mood to-"

Her words were cut off by the sound of the door opening, and she turned her head to see the Dark Lord entering the bedroom. He was dressed in his usual black robes, and his expression was as careless as ever; Bellatrix would have easily thought that he hadn't come to check on her, if he had not asked.

"How are you feeling?" his voice was cold and emotionless, as if he was merely asking due to formalities, but to Bella, his interest was enough to make her smile a little, despite her tensed nerves because of the medi-witch

"Better, my lord, thank-"

"I do believe she is better, I gave her a fever alleviating potion," the medi-witch interrupted her, addressing her lord, and Bellatrix once again wished she could curse that annoying woman and watch as she writhed from pain on the floor.

"Very well," Voldemort acknowledged simply, and then nodded to the medi witch, showing her that she should follow him outside in order to inform him about Bellatrix's condition.

The woman obliged and the two of them left the bedroom, leaving a furious Bellatrix behind.

Bellatrix fell back on the mattress with a growl, fuming with how things were. She was obviously ill, and thus could not even defend herself properly against the disrespectful words of a plump old lady, who didn't even let her speak to her lord!

She remained there until, several minutes later, she heard the door open again and se rushed to sit up. To her great relief, the one who walked in was the Dark Lord, thankfully not being followed by the medi-witch.

"My lord," Bellatrix addressed him eagerly, hoping that he would come and take a seat next to her, and touch the sides of her face, softly as he had done earlier that day, worrying for her.

However he did not, he merely took a few steps closer to the bed and typically asked her how she was feeling.

"Much better, my lord," she replied. "I believe I don't have a fever anymore, perhaps thanks to the potion the medi-witch gave me…" she commented, and then she once again felt her face flush from anger at the thought of the disrespectful old woman.

"My lord, if I may ask, who is the woman that… was tending me earlier?"

She clearly saw a small smirk twist the edges of his mouth, obviously sensing her irritation.

"That would be Madam Bonnet, she is an excellent healer, despite her sometimes… abrasive personality. She is the aunt of Antonin; he was the one to introduce her to me, when he was informed I was looking for a medi-witch."

"Dolohov?" Bellatrix arched her eyebrows in disbelief. Certainly, the plump old lady didn't resemble her niece at all. She would have never guessed Dolohov's aunt was a healer, either.

"Yes, Dolohov," the Dark Lord repeated simply, and then placed a vial with the same emerald liquid the medi-witch had given Bellatrix earlier on one of the bed-side tables. "You will drink this in two hours from now, if you want your temperature to be kept normal."

"Yes, my lord… Thank you," she murmured, disappointed about hearing his voice being completely emotionless and without genuine care for her. "My lord?"

"Yes, Bellatrix?"

"What… What is my… illness, exactly?"

"You have no certain illness, Bellatrix, your body is merely exhausted due to high stress levels and emotional pressure," the Dark Lord answered her simply, and Bellatrix felt her stomach leaping. She knew this would have never happened if he hadn't ordered her to kill her husband, and yet he spoke these words with so much ease, obviously without caring if he would hurt her.

She bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze, which fell on her right hand, where her wedding ring was still around her finger; the wedding ring, which was supposed to be a token of eternal love between her and Rodolphus, a love that had never existed, at least as far as Bella was concerned.

The Dark Lord seemed to notice the change in her mood and the sudden depressive feelings that overwhelmed her, because he spoke again, this time his tone more firm, as if to snap her out of any thoughts she might have.

"Madam Bonnet informed me that you will be getting better as the days pass by, and that you will be fully recovered and capable of returning to your house within a week," he told her, and Bellatrix gasped. She did not want to go back to her house; in fact, it was not even hers. It was Rodolphus's, and now he was dead.

It felt odd, really. She had always wanted to be on her own, to be independed and have her very own property, but she had this feeling that the manor would feel terribly empty without the presence of her husband.

She did not want to return to Lestrange Manor. Especially not now, that she had spent all these nights at her Lord's manor. She realized she wanted to stay here with him more than anything else, but at the same time knew this could never possibly happen; he would never allow it.

But she could always try; she could wait until she had somehow recovered and then she could ask him if she could stay in his manor for a little longer… Of course, she would not bother him, she would do her best to make sure that she would be a pleasant company to him, and perhaps even helpful…

"Something bothers you, Bella?"

Bella. He had called her Bella again, it was the second time within a day. The last time he had called her by her pet name had been the night when he had ordered her to get rid of Rodolphus, before he had made love to her… Bellatrix would give anything just to have another moment like that with him. After the events of the past weeks, she had lost all hope of being called to his bed ever again, but now that she was staying in his manor, a new spark of hope had begun to bubble inside of her. Perhaps…

"No, my lord… I was simply thinking… That, I would prefer it if I did not have to go back to…"

"To your house?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at her through a cold, questioning façade. "And where shall you stay, suppose you didn't return to the Lestrange Manor? _My_ manor, perhaps?"

Bellatrix did not reply, as she slowly realized how foolish she had been by thinking that there was a chance to be let in her Lord's manor.

The Dark Lord, considering her silence as a 'yes', chuckled slightly, although there was no trace of amusement. "Bellatrix, why don't you enlighten me on why you should not return to your own house and instead stay _here_?

Bellatrix gulped, and lowered her gaze. "My lord, it is not… _my_ house," she whispered, wishing that she could somehow erase her previous words. She had been stupid, questioning him and actually thinking that she could stay with him in his manor.

"It is, from now on, since there are no heirs to Rodolphus Lestrange, and I believe Rabastan will not be interested in taking the manor under his own charge."

Bellatrix's stomach leaped at the reference of Rabastan. She knew the Lestrange brothers were very close to one another, and now she suspected Rabastan must be devastated by the loss of his brother… The fact that Bellatrix was the one who took Rodolphus away from Rabastan made it all much harder for her to bear, but she thought she didn't have to let him know of that little detail, after all. She did not want to argue with him, and she most definitely did not want to make enemies with her dead husband's brother.

"Well? Any… other reasons why you believe you could stay _here_?" The Dark Lord's cold voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked up, to see him frowning slightly at her.

"My lord… I just thought that…"

"That perhaps I wanted some _company_?" he arched an eyebrow, and Bellatrix bit her lip, feeling her cheeks flush red from embarrassment.

"No my lord… I simply…" she took a small breath, and decided that she could tell him how she felt. He may mock her, he may tell her she is foolish, but she wanted to tell him. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered, and carefully looked at his face. He looked surprised for a split second, but whatever he might felt, he hid it immediately.

"I don't want to go back there, where I will be all by myself, without any reason for actually being there. And I don't want to remember of Rodolphus. I never want to see anything that will remind me of him again, I want to forget about him, and dedicate my life to you, my lord, to the Cause, to fighting for you… I can't cling to the past, I need to forget about anything that will make me weak and leave it to the past."

She took a breath after finishing with her small speech, and dared to meet his gaze. His cold façade seemed to have turned into a less careless one. This gave Bellatrix hope, that perhaps he would understand…

"I must admit that I admire the fact that you don't want to be weak because of things that belong to the past, Bella," the Dark Lord started, and Bellatrix once again thought she was going to jump off the bed and kiss him. His tone held no traces of emotion, but still, he had told her he admired her, he had called her Bella, and he seemed to actually be considering her words.

"When you will get better, we shall discuss about this again; but you cannot stay here, you must be aware of that."

Bellatrix nodded. The only thing she wanted was to be with him, to stay in his house, but she knew she should be grateful for not actually getting punished for her boldness and her requirements.

"Thank you, my lord," she said quietly, and he started for the door. Before he left, he spoke again.

"I will announce tonight, at the meeting, that Rodolphus Lestrange is dead. That he has been punished for his incompetence and disrespect."

Bellatrix once again wished they could just not talk about this, but she focused on the fact that a meeting was being held that night.

"There is a meeting tonight, my lord?"

"Yes, Bellatrix."

"Can I attend?" she asked hopefully. Attending her lord's meetings had always been something she eagerly looked forward to, and, despite her physical condition, she would loath to miss the meeting.

"You shouldn't get out of bed, Bellatrix, until you are fully recovered and ready to return to your duties," the Dark Lord commented, but Bellatrix was determined to make him let her attend the meeting.

"My lord, please, you know nothing in the world is more important to me than to be at your side, serving you-"

"Do as you wish, Bellatrix, but at least get some rest now. I do not intend to keep you here and tend you for ever," the Dark Lord said icily, but, despite his cold tone, it was still permission for Bellatrix to do as she pleased regarding the meeting.

"Thank you, my lord," she smiled, and watched him as he turned around and left the bedroom, after informing her that she would dine in half an hour.

**).(**

Bellatrix sat on the chair at the Dark Lord's immediate right, at the top of the huge wooden table in the meeting room. She was grateful and excited that her lord had permitted her to sit in her old place, that showed she was his favorite. She had taken multiple medicines to make sure she would not have a headache or any other symptoms during the meeting, and was now patiently waiting for the rest of the inner circle to arrive.

Lord Voldemort had already taken his seat on his throne-like chair, his cold gaze scanning the room as the door opened every now and then, another Deatheater coming in each time.

Those who were already present were Severus Snape, whose face was, as always, indifferent and cold, every now and then glancing towards Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, Rabastan Lestrange who sat somewhere in the middle of the table, obviously not aware of the death of his brother, Theodore Nott, Thorfinn Rowle, and the newest addition to the Dark Lord's ranks, Barty Crouch Junior, who had just finished school. Bellatrix had often wondered how the Dark Lord had chosen someone who was barely off age, but then remembered that she was merely sixteen when she had received her Dark Mark, just like many other Deatheaters.

A few minutes later, everyone had arrived, talking quietly with each other, while Voldemort's gaze danced around the room to make sure everyone was present. Once he spoke, silence fell to the room and everyone turned their eyes to him.

Bellatrix did not hear half of what he said. Her eyes were focused on Rabastan, whose eyes were locked on one of the stone walls of the room, his gaze empty after the Dark Lord informed everyone of Rodolphus's death.

The Dark Lord had not told who had been the one to kill him, and probably wasn't going to do so, but Bellatrix had a feeling, a strange, unpleasant feeling that Rabastan already knew. Her suspicions were only confirmed when, towards the end of the meeting, Rabastan lifted his eyes and looked at Bellatrix, who then realized she had been staring at him. She could see how it had hurt him; she could see the pain, but she could also see anger in her the Deatheater's brown eyes.

She turned her gaze away, feeling her stomach knotting, wishing she could just disappear. Perhaps attending the meeting hadn't been a good idea, after all.

Half an hour later, Bellatrix was standing in one of the hallways, waiting for everyone else to leave the Dark Lord's manor after the end of the meeting. She had begun to feel ill once again, and her head was pounding. She wanted to talk to her lord, but she knew she should wait until the house was empty so she would not arouse suspicions.

When she made sure there was no one in the manor save for her, the Dark Lord and the two house elves that were there to serve him, she struggled to fight back the urge to crawl back to bed and stay there until sunrise, and turned around to go to the study room, where she expected to find her master.

However, she did not move after she turned around. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Rabastan standing right in front of her, face contorted in a furious expression, his wand aiming straight to her heart.

"Rabastan," she uttered, pleadingly, but neither her nor Lestrange had any chance to speak any further, as the Dark Lord appeared in the dark hallway, his wand at hand, as well.


	4. Comfort

_A.N/ ...Hello everyone! I know. I know I've been away for a terrible lot of time, but, no, I've not been murdered. I'm alive *cheers* ! I also know that the last time I updated this was a long time ago, and I am sorry, considering that I usually update much much faster. I really am, and I don't know if anyone still reads this, 'cause I'm awfully late with this. I know none of you actually bothers much to read my excuses, but, believe me when I say, there are some. Yes, the classic one, life's been a mess. But it really has, and I'm not going to trouble you with what I've been going through the last few months, because I finally managed to get over it all. In other words, life's been tough. Like really tough. But that belongs to the past now. First of all I want to thank whoever might still be reading this. Thanks guys *sends you kisses and chocolate frogs and cards* ! I really do hope you're still kind of interested in this... I hope._

**).(**

_If you can't remember a better time_

_You can have mine, little one_

_In days to come when your heart feels undone,_

_may you always find an open hand_

_and take comfort wherever you can_

_~Deb Talan, "Comfort"_

**).(**

Bellatrix watched Rabastan from the corner of her eye as the man slumped on the plump green couch. She thought he seemed as if all his energy had left him -he collapsed on the pillows like a lifeless corpse would. His brown hair was messy and uncombed, and his fine features were contorted in a mask of pain. A thin line of blood was trailing from his forehead down his left cheek, but he didn't seem to mind.

Bellatrix knew the small cut on his head was by far the most trivial of Rabastan's bruises, and she felt a sudden urge to tend him, to heal him and even comfort him.

The notion was enough to scare her. Bellatrix Lestrange was not a gentle or giving person. She did not care about the well-being of others, except of course if that would benefit her. She rarely saw about other people and she never put up a charitable side of herself. The sudden change in her way of thinking was enough to make her stop in her tracks, frozen, and once again struggle to figure out what she should do.

Rabastan was broken -she could see that. She did not blame him; over the last few days she herself had managed to somehow forget about Rodolphus and how she had ended his life, since the presence of her Lord was enough to distract her, combined with her unexpected illness and the rather annoying visits from the medi-witch.

But Rabastan seemed to be having a harder time with that. Bellatrix knew how close Rodolphus and Rabastan had been. The two brothers had had to stay strong after the early death of their mother, when they were only eight and seven years old respectively. Their father had never exactly been the ideal paternal figure, and thus the two boys only had each other to rely on.

When Rodolphus and Bellatrix had publicized their marriage, Rabastan had been over-excited. He had welcomed Bellatrix as a member of the family, although she had made it clear that she was only marrying Rodolphus to please her family -and because she had no other choice. Rabastan, though, had always been nice to her, and the two of them were getting along well, often joking and hanging around when bored, and going to raids for the Dark Lord together.

And yet, this very evening, Rabastan had attempted to kill Bellatrix. She did not blame him. She knew Rabastan was much closer to his brother than he would ever be to Bellatrix, and he was broken by the announcement of his sudden death. Of course, even a fool would have foreseen that, given Rodolphus' recent failures, but the news were devastating to Rabastan.

Bellatrix honestly did not know how Rabastan had figured out it was her who had killed his brother. Perhaps he hadn't found out -perhaps he was only guessing. The evidence were surely against her, and Rabastan had not hesitated to aim his wand at her.

She had been a fool, wandering in the dark hall of the Dark Lord's manor without her wand. But she had not expected anyone to attack her, for no one had any actual reason to do so. But Rabastan had shown up, and she had assumed correctly that he was there to avenge his dead brother.

Rabastan did not know if it was indeed Bellatrix who had done it, he had no way of knowing, really, Bellatrix was sure of this. Bellatrix was struggling to think of a way to calm Rabastan down and earn some time when the Dark Lord appeared out of nowhere and had ordered Rabastan to lower his wand.

Her heart was thumping wildly, and Rabastan seemed rather unwilling to comply with his Master's orders. The Dark Lord however had too drawn his wand out and Bellatrix had no doubt Rabastan would obey in the end, for he was no fool to object the Dark Lord and face his wrath. Rabastan cast Bellatrix a filthy look before lowering his wand and turning to their Lord, titling his head in what he had hoped showed respect, but it was all too obvious to Bellatrix that all Rabastan wanted was the Dark Lord to go away.

"My Lord," he murmured, but Lord Voldemort was rather unimpressed. He demanded an explanation from Bellatrix and Rabastan, but neither seemed to be able to provide him with a satisfying one.

Bellatrix closed her eyes as she remembered of what followed next. Both she and Rabastan had remained silent, irritatingly silent, and the Dark Lord had showed them both what it meant to defy him.

Luckily, because of her state, Bellatrix's punishment had been rather mild comparing to Rabastan's. She had been able to heal all the bruises and cuts on her body shortly after both she and Rabastan had been told to leave. Rabastan, however, had not been as lucky as her, and she could tell his throat was still sore from all the desperate screaming.

She opened her eyes once again, she focused them on Rabastan. The man had his eyes shut and he was lying back on the pillows, as if trying to lessen the pain from the after effects of the curses. Bellatrix studied his face -there was no doubt he was Rodolphus' brother. Although bloodied and tired, his face looked much like Rodolphus, though there was a few differences. Where Rodolphus had a square jaw and broad forehead, Rabastan had higher cheekbones and a thinner face. They both had blue eyes, though, and the same messy-looking brown hair.

Slowly, hesitantly, Bellatrix walked towards Rabastan, and she sat down on the couch next to him. She was relieved to see that he did not react. He did not welcome her, of course, but he did not tell her to leave either. She doubted whether he would actually want to talk to her -after all, it was all her fault, although she hated to admit it.

"Rabastan?" her voice was small, uncharacteristically soft. It even surprised her to hear herself speak like that.

When he did not respond, she feared he might have lost consciousness, but when she placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes snapped open and he looked at her. She pulled her hand back and she twisted it on her lap.

"Rabastan?" she tried again, trying to maintain an even, soft tone. "Are you feeling okay?"

He looked at her. "No," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, and lounged back on the pillows, focusing his gaze on a spot on the wall opposite to them.

"Oh... You know... I could... I could help," she started, uncertain. She had never been good at comforting others -mainly because she never really comforted others. "These bruises... They will heal, they're not serious, there are some great healing potions in Knockturn Alley. This cut here is not serious, it'll-"

"Bellatrix, stop." Rabastan's voice was not firm when he said that, it was tired, desperate even, but it made Bellatrix fall silent. "We both know you don't give a damn about me, so stop pretending. It'll be better for both."

Bellatrix inhaled deeply, and tried to calm herself. So much had happened... So much had changed... "Rabastan," she started again, this time more firmly. "Rabastan," she repeated, when he did not respond.

Rabastan lifted his gaze to hers, blue eyes boring into black ones. "Bellatrix," he said simply, softly, "look at me."

Bellatrix did not say anything. "Look at me," he repeated.

"I am looking at you." She did not like where this was going.

Rabastan paused for a second and took a small breath, as if collecting his thoughts. Bellatrix could tell there was something he wanted to ask her, and she thought she knew exactly what that was. She blinked, but did not move, forcing herself to look at him.

"Bellatrix. Did you kill Rodolphus?" The question was simple. And there was only one answer to it.

"Rabastan... Don't do this..."

"Did you kill him? Yes or no? Did you kill my brother, your husband?"

"Rabastan-"

"Did you?"

Bellatrix closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would tell him. If he decided he wanted to avenge Rodolphus, she would defend herself. She would not sit there and apologize. She was one of the Dark Lord's most skillful and prized Death Eaters, and she would not sit there and cry and beg for forgiveness. She opened her eyes again, and studied her gaze with his.

"I did," she said simply. To her surprise, her voice did not tremble at all. "Yes, I killed him," she repeated, and waited for Rabastan's explosion.

It never came.

His lower lip trembled slightly, but quickly he got control of it and he titled his head to one side. "You killed Rodolphus."

"Yes."

Rabastan shook his head. Obviously, this was not surprising at all. He had been expecting this all along.

"Please, Bellatrix. Answer me one question -just one." He paused. "Why?"

Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. What could she say? Of course, there was no way she would tell Rabastan of what had happened between her, Rodolphus and the Dark Lord. In all truth, not even she entirely believed all this had happened only a few weeks ago. It all seemed like nightmare, a dream she had woken up from and had to forget.

"I... I had no other choice. I had to do it."

Once again, Rabastan nodded slowly, the notion dawning on him. "You had no other choice," he repeated.

"No," Bellatrix replied, maintaining an even tone. "I had not."

Rabastan took another slow breath, and turned his gaze to the ceiling, before it returned on her. "Tell me Bellatrix," he started, and, surprisingly, his tone was conversational. "Did _he _order you to do it?"

Bellatrix blinked. "Yes." She paused for a few seconds. "Could I refuse him?"

"You could. If you loved your husband, you could."

"He is the Dark Lord-"

"And Rodolphus was your husband! And my _brother_!" Rabastan snapped, suddenly losing all self-control. "And you killed him! Just because-"

"Rabastan, you have no idea what I had to go through-"

"Of course I do, Bellatrix!" Rabastan's voice was now sarcastic. "Of course I know. You prefer to be fucked by the Dark Lord rather than your husband, and so you killed him. Just as simple as that, isn't it?"

Bellatrix was left with her mouth open in shock. "What?" she managed to utter.

"Oh, don't look so surprised! We both know it's true! You killed him so you could whore freely for the Dark Lord, he is now out of the way and you two can do whatever-"

"Shut up!" Bellatrix screamed, and she realized she was now standing up, and tears were streaming down her face. Rabastan stopped talking, speechless, as she looked down at him, almost sobbing.

"Bellatrix-"

"Shut up! You don't know… You have no idea… I… I didn't want to, I never did, and I told him I loved him…" she was now sobbing uncontrollably, and she was almost incomprehensible.

"Calm down, you-"

"I was pregnant!" she screamed like a madwoman, suddenly out of control. "And I killed the baby for _him_! And he told me he would protect me and that everything would be fine, but it's not fine! It's not, Rabastan, it's not…" her voice trailed off as she collapsed on the couch next to Rabastan, burying her face in her hands.

She wanted all this to end. If she could, she would go back to the day when she had visited the Dark Lord in private and she would change everything. That one night with him was a huge price for what had followed it, and she did not want to pay it anymore. She just wanted this to end.

She lifted her head in shock when she felt a pair of arms around her shoulders. Rabastan was embracing her.

"What-"

"You loved him," he said simply, and Bellatrix forced herself to stop crying.

"I… I don't know," she said, and she was telling the truth.

"You did. You loved him," Rabastan said, and he hugged her tighter still. "I loved him too. But we have to move on now."

"I… Yes. We do… Move on…"

"We'll move on together," Rabastan said firmly, and looked straight into her eyes.

"What?" Bellatrix did not dare believe what she was hearing. "You-"

"We'll help each other move on. It's the only way, can't you see?"

"I _killed_ him, Rabastan, I-"

"I know what you did. But you are right, you had no choice. And I forgive you."

"Rabastan, what are you saying-"

"I said, I forgive you. Is that not enough for you?"

**).(**

It was four in the morning when Bellatrix returned to the Dark Lord's manor. She was not surprised to see that he had been waiting for her.

He was sitting on one of the two armchairs in the living room of the ground floor, a book open in his hands. When he saw her entering, he closed the book and placed it on the table before him, and gracefully stood up.

His eyes were cold as he looked at her, but she did not back down. He opened his mouth to speak, but she did not let him. Before he could scold her, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips on his.

For a moment, he was too shocked to react. She moved her own lips smoothly against his, just for a second, just for a brief moment, before she pulled back and bowed her head slightly.

"Goodnight, my Lord," she murmured, and rushed out of the living room before he could say anything. She would probably be punished for these actions tomorrow, but she honestly didn't care.

**).(**

_Reviews are more than love!_


	5. Confusion

_Author's Note: Wow. I mean... wow. I was not expecting to receive such a warm welcome back... :') Thanks everyone for reading this still, your reviews really made my day *hugs you so tightly you can't even breathe* ! Well. I wasn't entirely sure I liked the last chapter, but you seemed to enjoy it, and thus I'm really, really happy. You guys are awesome. Honestly I am not quite sure about this chapter, either. I was fairly confused while writing it -as the title suggests -.- - and I had not yet decided were I actually wanted to go with it. My first option was some Bella / Rabastan and other Death Eaters interaction, and my second was Bella / Voldemort interaction. As I figured out most of you would like some Bella/Voldemort better, I decided to go with the second option, although it was considerably harder to write... Oh well. I hope you'll enjoy it! Let me know if you want me to continue this chapter from where I left it in the next one! ;) By __the way, t__here is anther Author's Note in the end of the chapter, please read it! It's important! Anyway… Reviews are cherished!_

**)(**

_Confusion rainin' down from up high_

_And all the time you ask yourself, why?_

_Why can't you make decisions?_

_Can't make up your mind_

_Although you're trying hard to forget_

_The reason why you feel so misled_

_~The Zutons, "Confusion"_

**)(**

When Bellatrix exited her bedroom next morning, she was not surprised to find she was alone in the house. The Dark Lord had obviously left - no doubt for some business of great importance she had no reason of messing with. Since she had first come here, every day was the same, but instead of walking downstairs, Bella always remained in her room since she was still considered too weak from her illness to wander around. Thus the Dark Lord had no qualms about leaving her alone in the house, since she would not leave the chambers.

Today it was different, though. Bellatrix felt considerably better than last night, and the conversation between her and Rabastan had really helped her clear the haze in her mind and see how things really were.

In all honesty, she had not expected such a reaction from Rabastan. When he had asked her if she had really killed Rodolphus, Bellatrix had prepared herself for an argument, a duel even, but nothing happened. And when he had embraced her, she had truly been in a loss of words. Now she was more than grateful for Rabastan's behaviour, and she was glad to know that her former enemy was now her ally, a person with whom she could go through all this together.

When Bellatrix reached the ground floor, she realized she was hungry, which actually shocked her. She had not felt the urge to eat for weeks now and she only consumed food because the medi-witch instructed her to. However now she felt much healthier, and she wondered whether it would be disrespectful toward her Lord to just walk into the kitchen and make some food.

She stood there pondering for a few seconds before she decided that it would really cause no harm to just make some food for herself. If the Dark Lord returned at night, would she have to famish? No, she thought.

She made her way into the kitchen but froze in her tracks when she spotted a large swirling mass on one corner. It took her a moment to realize it was Nagini, and she let out a soft exclamation. The damned snake always appeared out of nowhere, in the most uncommon of places -that is, when it was not curled around its master's shoulders.

Bella had never really liked the snake, although she was generally quite fond of serpents. She considered them to be noble, in a way -Slytherin's symbol was a snake, after all. There was something about Nagini, however, that appalled her, or perhaps scared her, even. The snake looked more like a human rather than animal to Bellatrix -the way she seemed to be perfectly aware of the people surrounding her, the way she conversed with the Dark Lord...

Once Bellatrix had even felt jealous of the snake. As soft-headed it may sound, it was the truth, as Bella felt rather spiteful knowing the snake spend so much time with the Dark Lord when she was excused from his presence whenever he grew tired of here.

The witch passed by the snake without sparing it a second glance and walked over to the cupboards, were she hoped she would find some food. The notion was quite peculiar, actually. She had never seen her Lord engage in common human activities such as eating or sleeping, but she was sure he _must _eat at times. Although she knew he was far above any mere human, it would be rather bizarre to know that he did not eat.

Hesitantly she opened the first cupboard, but it was empty, but for a jar that contained a mud-looking substance Bellatrix had no intention of eating. She opened the second cupboard as well, but it too was empty and dusty, causing Bella to lose all hope of finding anything comestible in there.

She hovered for a second, thinking of what she was going to do, even if she did find food in the kitchen. Bellatrix had never cooked before in her entire life -she had never really had to. Ever since she was just a baby, it was the house-elves that prepared the food in her house, and things were no different when she attended Hogwarts, were food was always ready in her plate. And when she married Rodolphus, her husband had made sure to have at least three house-elves at a time in the house, ready to prepare whatever she wanted, or else he would take her out to a restaurant.

In other words, Bellatrix had not the slightest idea how to cook food properly. She was about to get desperate, her stomach protesting wildly, when she heard a knocking on the front door.

She froze, thinking of who it might be. Surely, it was not the Dark Lord -why would he ever _knock _before entering his own house? She quickly concluded it must be some Death Eater, after all no person without the Dark Mark could get past the gates of the manor.

She pondered what she should do for a second. If someone was knocking, then he surely wanted to speak to the Dark Lord, but he was not here. If she opened, she might be punished for allowing someone to enter the Dark Lord's house without his permission. On the other hand, she might be punished for not letting someone who had something important to report.

After a few seconds' thought, Bellatrix decided on opening the door and at least see who it was. She had just left the kitchen, though, when she realized she was still in her nightgown, so she rushed upstairs to the bedroom the Dark Lord had granted her and quickly changed in a pair of simple black robes -the same she was wearing when she first came here.

She ran down the stairs hastily and she was at the door in an instant. She stood there uncertain, just for a minute before she finally stretched out her arm and opened the door, curious to see who of the Death Eaters had come to see the Dark Lord.

The surprise she felt when she saw the man standing in the doorway was also painted across his face when he saw _her_.

"Snape?"

"Bellatrix."

The young man had been a Death Eater for only about a year, just out of school and still young and inexperienced. However, he seemed to be ascending quickly in the Death Eater ranks, much like Bellatrix had back when she was still a recruit, and the fact only served to annoy the witch.

Bellatrix did not like Severus Snape. This was mainly because the Dark Lord seemed to be quite interested in his new Death Eater, to a point Bellatrix had actually started to question her Lord's judgment in spite of herself. Snape was not as skilled a dueller as she or many other Death Eaters were, and his knowledge in the Dark Arts was fair, but not vast. She did not know how _he_ could serve the Dark Lord any better than she could, but she preferred to keep these thoughts to herself.

After all, the Dark Lord always allowed her to sit in his immediate right or left, along with Lucius Malfoy –the Dark Lord's apparent second in command. Snape always sat somewhere at the middle of the table, and he had not yet been assigned with any major task or mission, like Bellatrix had so many times before, so that meant she was not in danger of losing favour with the Dark Lord.

"What are you doing here?" Bellatrix demanded sharply, blocking the doorway. For some reason, she did not want to let the man in.

Snape arched an eyebrow as his eyes wandered questioningly over her face. "I was about to ask you the same thing," he commented icily. "It is, after all, the second time I find you here."

"That is not any of your business, Snape," Bellatrix hissed, as menacingly as she could. "Why have you come here?"

"I happen to have an appointment with the Dark Lord," Severus replied. "And I do not want to be late, so if you could be so kind as to move…"

"The Dark Lord is not here," Bellatrix said sharply, choosing to ignore Snape's sarcastic tone.

"I am aware of that."

Now it was Bellatrix's turn to frown. "Then why are you here?"

"I was instructed to come to the Dark Lord's manor and wait for him… by the Dark Lord himself. I trust you will not choose to defy the Dark Lord?"

Bellatrix scoffed. "Of course not, Snape," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Please, do forgive my impertinence and come in."

Snape smirked and accepted her "offer", dusting his robes before walking in the house and straight into the parlour with long strides.

Bella felt anger bubbling inside her at Snape's barefaced behaviour, but she clenched her teeth and forced herself to remain calm and tranquil –two traits she had never quite managed to master.

When she too found herself in the parlour, Severus Snape had already taken his seat on one of the plush couches, his fingers braided together and an expectant expression on his face.

"I see that you've already made yourself comfortable," Bellatrix commented coolly as she too sat down, straightening her skirts as she did so.

"Indeed," Snape smirked. "Why, Bellatrix, won't you offer me a drink?"

"In case you have not noticed, _Severus_, I am not the landlord here," Bellatrix sneered at him, leaning back on the couch.

"Yet you're the only one here," Snape commented, letting his eyes wander around the room. "You still have not told me, Bellatrix, why is it the second time I find you in the Dark Lord's manor, when you have such a lovely home of your own to reside?"

Snape's sardonic smirk implied he was rather suspicious, but Bellatrix would not give him the satisfaction of understating her like that. It was clear what he thought –that she was only here to… please the Dark Lord. Although he had not dared say such thing, Bellatrix was sure he was thinking about it.

"Why, Severus, are _you_ the Dark Lord?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Apparently not, Bellatrix."

"Well then it is not your business. Am I right Sevvie?"

Snape puckered his thin lips and a flash of anger lit his eyes, but it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "Or course, Bellatrix."

They resumed their previous state, sharing a rather inconvenient silence, occasionally letting their eyes flicker to each other, until they heard the main door open and close softly.

Bellatrix tensed, knowing that the only one who could have entered the manor without knocking first would be the Dark Lord himself. Unlike her, Snape appeared considerably tranquil, as if he were to meet an old friend.

Seconds later, the tall and slender figure of the Dark Lord appeared in the entrance of the parlour. He was wearing everyday plain black robes, as if he had just gone to a near pub and returned. His bloodshot eyes wandered from Bellatrix to Severus, and Bellatrix fancied she saw the corners of his lips pursing into a small smirk. Obviously he had sense the tension between them… and found it rather amusing.

"Bella, Severus," he acknowledged, and Bella thought she felt Severus grimace slightly at the use of her pet name by the Dark Lord. If he was indeed suspicious of her sleeping with the Dark Lord, then the pet name had only served to enhance his suspicions.

Voldemort, however, did not seem to notice –or perhaps he chose not to comment on that. "What a… pleasant surprise, it is indeed, to find the two of you sitting here…"

Bellatrix looked away, only now remembering what she had done last night. She felt heat flood her cheeks as she remembered her lips touching his, not allowing him to say what he wanted, and then simply leaving… She bit her lower lip. How the hell had she forgotten about that? Surely she would be punished for it…

"I do recall granting Bella permission to reside here for a while, Severus, but I thought our meeting was not scheduled for before noon.

Bellatrix saw Snape stiffen, and she resisted the urge to smirk triumphantly. She did not know if the meeting was indeed scheduled for noon or not, but the effect the Dark Lord's words had on the man were evident, and she just wanted to laugh at Snape's obvious discomfort.

"My Lord… I found out only today that I will be rather busy at noon, so I thought that there would be no problem if I showed up a little earlier…"

"You will be back here at three o' clock sharp, Severus. You may be busy then, but I am quite sure that whatever… business it is that you have, it can wait."

"Of course, my Lord." Severus stood up and started for the door, but not before casting Bellatrix an ice-cold glare. She was now grinning widely at Snape's rejection, and did not bother to hide it.

After Snape had left the manor, the Dark Lord proceeded to take a seat next to Bellatrix, who halted nervously and clenched her hands into fists, her previous mirth now replaced by concern.

She looked away from her Master, but she could still feel his eyes probing into her, and she couldn't take it any more.

"My Lord, I-" she started, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched, but Voldemort raised a hand and the small gesture was enough to silence her.

Bellatrix searched in her Lord's face for a sign that would betray what he was thinking, but he remained expressionless, his bloodshot eyes locked with her dark ones. It took a great deal of effort from Bellatrix to erect barriers in her mind, in order to prevent him from probing her mind. Usually she hated keeping secrets from him and trying to keep him away from her thoughts, but now it was different.

"Bellatrix," he spoke finally, and his voice was oddly soft, but still cold and emotionless.

"My Lord," she muttered, lowering her gaze to her lap. "About... About last night..." she started, but she found it difficult to continue.

"Yes, Bellatrix?" he prompted. "What about last night?"

"Master, I wanted to say..." Bellatrix managed to find some courage and lift her eyes to his. It wasn't easy. "I wanted to say that I am sorry, my Lord, terribly sorry." Her voice came out strained, but she did her best to not show fear in the presence of the Dark Lord.

"You are sorry, Bellatrix," Voldemort hissed, and Bella bit her lower lip, forcing herself not to look away from him. She could not appear weak. "What exactly are you sorry for?"

Bellatrix took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, and he fingers clutched at the fabric of her skirt. She hated it when he pressed on her whenever she had done something wrong and had to admit it. He always waited until she had confessed and apologized, and it was far worse than punishing her physically, like he had done so many times before.

"I am sorry, my Lord... I mean I apologize... About kissing you... And leaving your presence without your permission..." it was hard to talk, but she clenched her teeth and tried to ignore the fear that was bubbling in her stomach.

Voldemort's eyes remained on hers, his gaze steady yet formidable, opposing to her quivering one.

She remained still, waiting for him to speak first, until she couldn't take it any more. "My Lord, I am sorry, I am sorry, I did not know what I was doing, and I did not mean to cause offense, I-"

"Bella."

She instantly fell silent at the use of her pet name, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he might not be that furious with her. "Master," she murmured.

"You are... overreacting."

"My Lord?" _Now _she was confused.

"There is no need for such sniveling apologies. You are only making a fool of yourself this way."

"I... Of course, Master," she tentatively nodded, and lifted a hand to wipe the tears that had sprung from her eyes. Her Lord did not want her to be weak in front of him, and so she would not be.

"You seem to have recuperated well," he commented, changing the subject, much to Bella's surprise.

"I... Yes, thank you, my Lord. It was only because of your charity to allow me in your manor... Thank you, my Lord."

"Of course," the Dark Lord nodded, his eyes never leaving Bella's. "Now that you are healthy again, I see no reason why you should reside here any longer. I believe you are capable of returning to your Death Eater duties."

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix agreed, struggling to hide her disappointment and the trembling in her voice, caused from a sob that threatened to escape her lips. "You are right, of course."

She had hoped the Dark Lord would allow her to stay here... How foolish had she been?

"You do not wish to leave my house." He said, and it was not a question. It was an ascertainment.

"My Lord-"

"Why is that?"

"My Lord I… I just don't… I do not want to leave your presence, my Lord," Bella said finally, and it was not entirely a lie. She _did_ want to be in her Master's presence. Despite everything he had put her through, the only place Bella actually felt safe in was her Lord's house.

Voldemort considered her for a moment, before speaking again. "And what makes you think the feeling is mutual?"

His words stung harder than any curse would have, and she struggled to stop the already forming tears from streaming down her face. She should have expected this. Of course he did not want her. Why would he, after all? She had failed him in so many ways…

"If… If you do not wish me to remain here, my Lord," she begun, and with every word she said she felt like she was placing yet another heavy burden upon her shoulders, "then I shall do as you wish and leave, my Lord."

Her voice trailed off and she only realized she was crying when she saw a single tear dropping on her lap. She hastily brought her hand up to her eyes to wipe the tears off before the Dark Lord scolded her for displaying such weakness, but she felt cool fingers wrap around her wrist and stopping the advance of her hand.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at her Lord, who was now frowning at her, his cold demeanour now replaced by something resembling curiosity.

Bellatrix felt goosebumps erupt where he was touching her and her own hand clenched automatically into a fist. "My Lord?" she dared question in a trembling voice, unaware of his intentions.

"Why are you acting like this?" he asked finally, his voice void of all emotion, but Bella fancied she had detected the slightest hint of concern in his voice. But it could have been just her imagination…

"My Lord? What do you mean?" she asked tentatively, afraid she might have made a wrong choice of words.

"One day you're crying and begging… The other you're silent and downhearted… What _is_ wrong with you, Bellatrix?" He leaned forward, just a few inches, but it was enough to make Bella's heartbeat increase twofold. "Has your husband's death really affected you _that_ much?"

Bellatrix was in a loss of words, staring at her Lord with eyes wet wide open, her wrist still in his gentle yet firm grip. "M-master… He… Rodolphus… He belongs to the past now, my Lord," she said, hoping she had said the right thing. However Voldemort didn't seem to believe her, and it made her heart sink.

"You are lying," he stated simply, his crimson eyes boring into hers. "Last night you were thinking of him… And you were talking about him with his brother."

Bellatrix's mouth opened but no sound came out, and so Voldemort continued. "Did you love him, Bellatrix?"

"My Lord?"

"Did you love your husband, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix dared pull her hand out of his grip and placed it on her lap, casting her gaze downwards. Had she ever truly loved Rodolphus? Yes, she had told him she loved him once, but was it for real? Or was she just seeking comfort after a painful rejection from her Master?"

She lifted her eyes to the Dark Lord's once again. "No," she whispered, and she hoped she was telling the truth. "I never loved Rodolphus."

Voldemort nodded, seemingly believing her.

"You should know, Master, that-"

"Yet you still think of him."

Bella fell silent and clenched her jaw. She dared not speak, out of fear of having angered him again.

"Is that a lie?"

Bellatrix shook her head slowly, hesitantly, and her breath caught when he leaned close to her, his face mere inches away from hers. He was so close she could have kissed him if she chose, but she knew that would be foolish. She wouldn't do the same mistake as last night again…

"Is it?"

Bellatrix drew a small breath before finding the courage to speak. "No, my Lord. But I will forget about that traitor. I promise I will."

Before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, cold and demanding and full of passion. She wasted no time in responding to the kiss, moving her lips eagerly against his, her arms flying out to wrap around his neck and pulling him closer to her.

Surprisingly, he did not object, instead his own hands gripped her shoulders tightly and pushed her back onto the couch, holding her firmly in place. She made no move to escape and she moaned against his mouth before he broke the kiss and loomed over her, his breath hot on her face.

"You will forget about your husband," he said softly, and she could do nothing but nod, only wanting his lips to return on hers.

"Y-yes, my Lord," she muttered and another gasp escaped her lips as she felt his hand on her breast and his cold lips on the tender flesh of her neck. "_Master_," she moaned and leaned in to his touch.

**)(**

_A.N/ Kinda small chapter it was, but I promise next one will be better, and longer. But I really do need your help right now… I cannot choose a suitable ending / later plotline for this story. What I mean is, I can't decide whether I want to focus more on Bellamort or not… One alternative is have Voldemort and Bella develop some sort of a more sexual relationship, but, you're warned, it won't be all lovey-dovey and romantic and happy. This is Voldemort we're talking about, after all. The other option is have Voldemort develop a more mentor –protégée / confidential relationship with Bella, and Bella building her romance life once again and marrying someone else. And, the last option is have a more "tragic" outcome of the story, with Voldemort actually rejecting Bella. I know it's kinda early for this, since we're just in the fifth chapter, but the plot of the following chapters actually depends on what I'll decide for the story now… Just remember, there is no way I'll have Voldemort actually falling for Bella, since that could never happen. As I've told you, I REALLY value your opinion, so I would greatly appreciate it if you could tell me what you think by leaving a review. It will really help me, and it will also help you see the story develop into something you'd like to read! :D_

**)(**


End file.
